Vivid and mordant, Thirst Street imperfectly defines its lead, but makes her journey distinct.

A valentine to movies and an ode to the stinkers which we love and can’t live without, Franco exudes cinematic passion with his finest directorial outing yet.

The disappointment with this film is in how it feels like a betrayal of the skills which made him stand out amongst many of his contemporaries. Empathy is in sight with the film’s subject, but never really felt due to a certain distance.

Gyllenhaal is onscreen pouring his heart and soul into an imperfect man who’s made more inspiring for being so.

Roman J. Israel, Esq. might not be the courtroom drama fans have been expecting. Instead, it’s a character study filled with insight and originality.

While Robinson’s film does fall into the usual trappings of biopic beats, its subject can’t help but transcend them.

The fact that you do care about their being together means Abu-Assad and company have succeeded, at the most basic level, what they set out to achieve.

When Molly’s Game is good, it’s very, very good. There are dazzling moments throughout, and it’s clear that Sorkin is having a blast. Much of the film is downright intoxicating, just like the world Molly Bloom found herself in.

Willer’s essay film is obviously a cathartic experience, her documenting a family history that transcends the personal towards the universal

Although it may be lacking originality, Battle of the Sexes is finely-tuned storytelling that has been consummated by real pros.

Carpinteros’ third act, as exhilarating as its build is, seems to abandon the social realism at the core of the picture, falling back on tired and true genre storytelling that feels like a mismatch between the film’s opening sequences.

Who knew a documentary about the library could turn out to be the most thrilling political film of the year?

The Fontana sisters amazingly traverse this evolving landscape, alternating between warrior and crippled as the plot wears them down to nothing. We desperately crave they’ll earn a victory, but a release from the torture may have to suffice.

Darkest Hour is pure, uncut Oscar bait that goes through every bullcrap great man biopic platitude imaginable in its two-hour runtime. The reason to rush to such a harsh judgement is perhaps because it’s so damn hard to understand the actual reason for making this film in the first place other than racking up gold statues.

The film becomes so self-aware that it’s tough to discern whether we should take what’s happening seriously or not.

By the end, mother! is easy to admire for its ambition, but even easier to laugh at for its execution.

Lady Bird is one of the year’s great joys. Greta Gerwig’s debut as a solo writer-director is so wise, so funny, and so remarkably assured that it seems to have flown in out of nowhere.

If Spettacolo has a significant flaw, it is in the somewhat pedestrian and placid manner in which it is constructed. There is the feeling that the directors see the play as a vehicle in order to explore the town as a whole, which does allow for some lovely moments of contemplation but makes the film less focused and motivated as a whole.

McDonagh’s latest work is simply exceptional; a film so rich with narrative fluidity, profane laughs, standout performances and complex character studies that its tremendous emotional hits–often arriving when you least expect them–might just leave you agog.

Joan’s peculiar kind of charm is mostly owed to Allen, who gives what might be the most complex, layered performance of her career.

The script carries us through without much effort, its expertly paced discoveries keeping us enthralled.

There seems to be something missing; his life was an enigmatic puzzle and Strong hasn’t found all the pieces. It doesn’t help that his visual style is flat and the narrative is conventional enough.

This is Meyers-Shyer’s directorial debut and it shows in spots. The pacing ebbs and flows a bit unevenly and plenty of jokes don’t hit as much as the filmmaking would suggest they do. That said, the casting goes a long way, as does the aforementioned production design.

The meat of Suburbicon is certainly Grade-A, but no expense has been spared on the trimmings either. Even the briefest supporting players are fully formed and often quite memorable.

You won’t float off the film’s intended horror high, but the characters will endear you enough to show up for the promised second chapter.

Downsizing is arguably the most flawed of Payne’s work, but despite its apocalyptic overtones, it’s also his most optimistic. The resulting emotional hit of Paul’s final actions — like that of Miles’, Woody’s, and Schmidt’s — is no less moving, either.

In order to enjoy the myriad pleasures of del Toro’s world — with all its counterpointed humor, quicksilver pacing, endearing humanity, peculiar eroticism, and sudden eruptions of violence — one must simply take the plunge.

Kill Me Please is remarkably accomplished for a debut feature despite feeling a little bit muddled in terms of rhythms and especially its ending, which tips its hat a little bit too hard to art-horror ponderousness. Still, it’s a vibrant debut that demonstrates that Silveira has a strong talent for depicting adolescence and its attendant horrors.